


the list

by narada-talis (sarensen)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Happy Ending AU, M/M, Post-Season/Series 07, Season 8? Never heard of her, Sheithlentines 2019, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fade-to-black handjob (unrelated to kaltenecker), getting excited while sparring, listen the galra are NOT romantic, mentions of kaltenecker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 03:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarensen/pseuds/narada-talis
Summary: Keith doesn’tdoValentine’s Day. Desperate for some advice on how to spend a romantic day with him in spite of this, Shiro goes to Krolia for help, only the pointers she gives him are… less “10 things I hate about you” and more “Art of War”. Good thing Shiro is good at adapting.Written for the following sheithlentines 2019 prompts: Established relationship, canonverse, Valentine’s Day theme, romantic dinner amongst the stars, let them stay in a pretty penthouse, shower/private spa (with rose petals and champagne ✨)Excerpt:Keith pulls away, resting on his elbows on either side of Shiro’s head. Strands of black hair drip down around his face, tickling Shiro’s cheeks. With the white stars as his backdrop and reflecting in his eyes, he’s beautiful.“I’m onto you, you know,” he says, a little breathlessly.Shiro rests his hands on Keith’s hips, then slides them up under his shirt to touch bare skin because he thinks he’ll combust if he can’t feel Keith right now. “Are you.”Keith half smirks, “You’re not so smooth, Captain Shirogane. I know this is a Valentine’s Day date.”





	the list

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wisteria_hime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteria_hime/gifts).



Keith is the least romantic person Shiro knows.

The words ‘Valentine’s Day’ hadn’t even completely left Shiro’s mouth before he’d been interrupted with a deadpan “No.”, and Keith had turned around and left, leaving Shiro staring after him in consternation.

Shiro had known from the beginning it would be a long shot. With Adam, Valentine’s Day had always been a big deal, and though Shiro wouldn’t have admitted it, he’d enjoyed the silly little gifts and romantic gestures.

Saying Keith isn’t romantic isn’t entirely fair to him. Keith is… intense. Their gestures of love are grand and sweeping and, more often than not, borne out of life-or-death situations. With Keith, it’s a hundred miles an hour _all_ the time, and Shiro loves that about him - he does - but sometimes he thinks it would be nice to have something a little simpler, a little quieter. He thinks Keith might like it too, if he would just be open to giving it a chance.

So he tries. Several times. Subtly, overtly.

It doesn’t work.

And that’s how Shiro ends up in Krolia’s quarters one rainy Wednesday after flight drills, leaning his hip on the edge of her desk and studying the datapad in his hand intently.

Krolia had been a last resort. Shiro had tried convincing Keith of the simple romantic pleasures of Valentine’s Day several times, to no avail. He’d even tried roping Lance in to help, which not only did not work, but also ended up costing him not a small amount of GAC for repairs to the Garrison’s cafeteria, for reasons officially listed only as “interpersonal conflict” (and unofficially known as “that one time Kogane thought McLain was coming onto Commander Shirogane and ripped one of the bolted tables right out of the floor during their fight”).

Now desperate with Valentine’s Day only a few days away, Shiro had started wracking his brain for anything Keith would find remotely romantically acceptable when it had struck him: Keith is half Galra. The Galra are famous for many things. Granted, being romantic isn’t one of them. But the continued existence of their race must mean that they pair off with a partner, similar to humans, if only for a limited time. At least, that’s the theory. And perhaps, showing that he’s gone to the trouble of researching the proper Galran way to pursue a romantic interest would even win him some brownie points with Keith.

And so he’d gotten in touch with Krolia, and had come to her quarters at the agreed time, only to be handed this datapad, with its list in happy little orange letters.

Only…

It isn’t anything like he’d been expecting.

Shiro stares at the list some more, then frowns up at Krolia. “… And you’re absolutely _sure_ that these are Galran romantic customs, and not… battle strategies?”

”I’m sure, Shiro,” Krolia replies.

“And you don’t have anything a little less…” Shiro trails off, trying out a few different words in his head before settling on, “…violent.”

“No, Shiro.” Krolia crosses her arms, starting to get defensive. “That is the list you asked for.”

Shiro swallows lightly and bites his lip. If Keith were a three on a one-to-ten scale of intensity, Krolia would be at least a twenty five. He wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. And besides, she’s both full Galra and Keith’s mom to boot… She probably wouldn’t misdirect him. Probably.

“Okay then,” he says, trying not to sound as doubtful as he feels, “I guess I have plans for Valentine’s Day.”

———————————

**_Krolia’s suggestions for wooing your partner the Galra way:_ _A 5-point list to guarantee a successful pairing with the mate of your choice_ **

__**1) Engage your partner in glorious combat  
**   
  


“It’s my day off, Shiro,” Keith half grumbles, but follows after him anyway, hands tightly clasped together.

“I know. But I felt like sparring. Indulge me?”

They’re already more than halfway to the training room, and Keith doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t try to pull away either, so Shiro takes it as a yes.

A few cadets and officers are dotted around the room, stretching or lifting weights or running on the treadmill. There’s music - the peppy, up-beat kind Lance plays in his Lion from time to time, and that Shiro secretly likes. The room smells like sweat and steel and canvas, and even with the coolers on full blast, it’s humid and stuffy inside.

They change into sparring gear. Keith wears a loose tank over leggings that accentuate his legs in all the right places and ties his hair back in a messy ponytail, letting a few strands escape to frame his face. It’s a good look on him, and Shiro doesn’t mind telling him so as they head to the corner of the training room to stretch. Keith grumbles, and turns his face away to hide the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. It makes Shiro smile.

They start slow. Shiro swipes at Keith’s head lightly, easy enough for him to dodge. Keith aims a right hook at Shiro’s ribs. He steps out and goes in for a kick to Keith’s hip, but the size of his prosthetic leaves him with an opening Keith is quick to take advantage of, ducking out of the kick and jabbing a sharp elbow into his ribs.

They get lost in the heat of it soon, warrior instinct taking over. Keith’s body radiates heat, his muscles cording with every movement, all quicksilver and fire, beautiful and dangerous.

Shiro’s lungs are beginning to burn, chest heaving as the adrenaline of the fight drives him to move faster, swing harder.

He allows one of Keith’s right hooks to connect; it leaves him vulnerable for Shiro to step right inside his reach. Keith turns to avoid it, right into Shiro’s shin. The roundhouse kick connects with Keith’s ribs, hard.

But Keith had been waiting for this. Shiro realizes his mistake too late as Keith catches his ankle and _pulls_ , bringing his other knee up behind Shiro. Shiro’s weight topples them both over the ground. Keith rolls into it effortlessly and the next moment he’s on top of Shiro, chest heaving and their hips aligning _just so_.

The shock of it jolts through Shiro’s body, heat tingling down his spine and into his fingertips and judging by the look on Keith’s face, he’s felt it too. His pupils are blown, blushing all the way down to his chest. He’s a heavy weight on top of Shiro, thighs squeezing his hips lightly.

Shiro’s mouth feels suddenly dry. He lets his hands rest on Keith’s knees and has to fight the urge to trail them up and rub his thighs.

He misses that Keith’s said something. It’s only when he repeats, “Shiro,” in that rough, commanding voice of his that Shiro blinks and comes back to himself, looking up at him.

“W-what?”

“I said,” Keith growls, “Do you yield?”

“Fine, fine,” Shiro chuckles, out of breath from more than just their fight. He taps Keith’s knee. “I yield.”

“Good.” Keith heaves off Shiro and stands, extending a hand toward him. Shiro takes a deep breath and lets him help him up, extremely thankful that his own t-shirt is long enough to cover down to his thighs.

Keith says, “My stomach feels like it’s digesting itself.”

Excellent.

“… Dinner, then?” Shiro asks, pleased that he won’t need to do any extra convincing for Keith to join him on the next item in the list.

Keith uses a towel to wipe his face, then reaches up to drape it over his head, revealing a tiny strip of skin where his tank rides up. “I could eat.”

———————————

_**2) Consume the still-beating heart of a shared enemy** _

__

Shiro wouldn’t consider fish his enemy, as such. And he doesn’t really think any of the restaurants on Garrison grounds would serve any kind of still-beating hearts, anyway. So to cross off the second item on Krolia’s list, he needs to make some changes:

_**2) Consume the ~~still-beating heart~~ **raw meat **of a ~~shared enemy~~ **tuna_

He nods in satisfaction at the hastily-modified list item, pocketing his datapad quickly before Keith has the chance to see it.

All of the Paladins have taken to avoiding any kind of beef out of respect to Kaltenecker, of course, but fish is very much still on the menu, and he and Keith both happen to be very fond of sushi.

Hands on his hips, he considers the items spread out on the table in front of him. Fish, _nori_ , rice, assorted long and crispy vegetables. They make sushi together at least once a week, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary, except Keith’s hair is still wet from the shower and he’s munching on a piece of cucumber while he works, and Shiro’s body hasn’t entirely forgotten the feeling of having Keith in his lap yet, and he’s having some trouble concentrating.

So he stares at the food instead, at his hands, thinking hard about how dexterous the Earth-Altean hybrid technology is to allow him to roll the tiny, delicate bamboo mat, and about his grandfather and the way he used to make sushi, and about _anything at all_ except the way Keith’s shirt clings to his back, showing off shifting muscle and a hint of spine that Shiro knows the taste of intimately.

He makes it through somehow, but Keith gets suspicious when he starts packing the little rolls and pieces into a container. He watches Shiro add a bottle of wine and some glasses to the picnic basket, waiting for the container with sushi to go in as well before hazarding, “… Did I forget date night?”

Shiro pauses in the act of folding two sets of chopsticks into some napkins. “No?”

“Then… what’s with the picnic? Can’t we just eat here, like we always do? And where did you even get a picnic basket, anyway?”

“I just felt like going out,” Shiro dodges, “And the basket is Colleen Holt’s. I’m just. Borrowing it.”

“… Uh huh.” Keith doesn’t sound convinced, but he puts on his sneakers at the door and follows Shiro from their little apartment on the grounds and into the Garrison mains.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” Keith asks as they pass through the guarded gates, walking through the twisting halls and corridors of the Garrison, past training rooms and the mess hall and the offices of General Affairs. By the slightly confused look on his face, he hadn’t been expecting them to come _indoors_.

“It’s a surprise,” Shiro answers just as the signal sounds for shift change. They’re entering the night shift, and the hallways are all but empty. Still, Shiro takes care not to be seen, sneaking around corners and dodging personnel. He can sense Keith getting more and more curious, but he plays along.

He finally catches on when they take the service elevator upstairs. “We’re going up on the roof?”

Shiro smiles slightly to himself but doesn’t answer - the rooftop had been one of their favorite hangouts as cadets, before Kerberos, before Voltron or Zarkon or any of the other things that happened. They haven’t been back since - and Shiro can hear the excitement barely concealed in Keith’s voice.

The door to the rooftop is locked with an old-school heavy chain and padlock, which Shiro breaks easily with his Altean hand. When Keith raises an eyebrow at him, Shiro gives him a slightly sheepish smile and simply says, “I’ll replace it.”

The view from the rooftop is breathtaking - the string-light roads and blackbox buildings of the Garrison framed by miles of empty, dark desert, and above that, an expanse of glittering stars stretching from horizon to purple horizon.

Shiro spreads a blanket for them and they have their sushi while trying to name all the constellations, and eventually making up silly names for the ones they don’t know. They’ve done it a million times before, and they’ll do it a million times again. For all the war and destruction and pain actually going to space had caused them both, they still love the stars, and always will. It makes Shiro think back on their adventures, remember their time on the Castle and how they found each other in the middle of an intergalactic war.

“I’m gonna call _that_ one the 'Broken Dynotherm’,” Keith says around a mouthful of sushi, gesturing broadly at a dim smattering of stars between Boötes and Ursa Major.

Shiro looks at him fondly, still a little in disbelief that he made it, that _they_ made it out alive, through the chaos and the fear of war. That after everything, he not only made it back home, but brought Keith back with him. That Keith and all of his strength and beauty and terrible sense of humor and Galra traits belong to him, now.

Shiro hasn’t been looking at the stars for some time.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by how much he loves Keith, and interrupts what he had been saying with a “Hey.”

“What.” Keith looks over at him.

“Love you.”

Keith blushes slightly, barely visible in the dark, and looks away. “Yeah yeah.” He isn’t very good with expressing emotions, or having them expressed to him.

“I do,” Shiro insists, smiling, “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

“Shut up…”

“Love you more than all the inhabitants of all the planets in the Coalition combined.”

Keith grumbles, and shoves a piece of sushi into Shiro’s mouth to shut him up.

Shiro chuckles around it, swallowing it down before leaning over to kiss him. Keith tastes like sushi and wine. His hair is soft and warm between Shiro’s fingers and the brush of his tongue against his lips makes Shiro’s whole body tingle.

He pulls Keith into his lap to deepen the kiss. Keith’s hands are all over him - rubbing over his back and pushing into his hair, scratching his scalp. Keith loves to touch. One of the many things Shiro loves about him is that he can never seem to keep his hands to himself, consciously when they’re alone, and subconsciously in public, to the point where Shiro’s had to remove his hand from his thigh once or twice during Coalition meetings.

He goes pliant for Keith, lets him push him down; he knows Keith enjoys being in control, likes that he can make Shiro do what he wants in spite of Shiro’s size and strength. And Shiro likes letting him have control, likes doing what Keith tells him to, moving the way he wants.

Beneath Shiro’s back, the blanket is soft except for the ridges between the roof tiles. Keith is a heavy weight on his thighs, his hands calloused and rough and delicious where they slide in under his shirt and over his stomach, and his body is so warm. He’s Shiro’s own personal furnace and his kisses are everything - more delicious than the sweetest chocolate and more addictive than the strongest drugs.

Keith pulls away, resting on his elbows on either side of Shiro’s head. Strands of black hair drip down around his face, tickling Shiro’s cheeks. With the white stars as his backdrop and reflecting in his eyes, he’s beautiful.

“I’m onto you, you know,” he says, a little breathlessly.

Shiro rests his hands on Keith’s hips, then slides them up under his shirt to touch bare skin because he thinks he’ll combust if he can’t feel Keith right now. “Are you.”

Keith half smirks, “You’re not so smooth, Captain Shirogane. I know this is a Valentine’s Day date.”

Shiro chuckles, extracting his hands from Keith’s shirt to hold them out in a gesture of surrender. “You got me.”

Keith narrows his eyes playfully. “Alright. I’ll cooperate. But there better not be any gifts.”

Shiro kisses him again, because he wants to, and because he can. “No gifts. Promise.”

———————————

_**3) Bathe together ~~in the blood of the victorious battlefield~~** in the penthouse suite bathtub  
_

Apart from providing housing for its main officers on the extended grounds, the Garrison is also home to a five-star hotel. There, they receive dignitaries from other planets, host Coalition conferences, and throw extravagant parties for Earth’s most important celebrations. It’s the tallest building in the Garrison, an oblong slab of black lit up with rows and rows of yellow windows stretching toward the stars.

It’s here Shiro leads Keith when they’ve packed up their picnic, instead of back to their apartment. Keith’s growing curiosity at where he’s being taken culminates in a surprised gasp, and when Shiro dares to peek at him, he finds raised eyebrows and a mouth the shape of an 'o’. “We’re staying _here_?”

The clerk at the reception counter recognizes them immediately - of course, pretty much everyone at the Garrison does - and Shiro tries not to look too smug when she hands him the keycard to the penthouse suite with a formal, “Your room, Commander.”

“Yeah,” Shiro shrugs in answer to Keith, trying to play it off although he feels nearly as excited as Keith does, “You like it?”

Keith doesn’t answer, but is somehow magically already in the elevator, waiting for Shiro impatiently.

They take the elevator up (and up), and step out into an absolutely massive room, almost the size of their entire apartment. It’s resplendent with a lounge suite, chandelier, and even - Shiro has to do a double take - an actual, _bona fide_ piano. The walls are solid panes of glass easily twice Shiro’s height, offering a magnificent view of the desert night unhindered by curtains or blinds. They’re high enough up that no one will be able to look in, and their side of the hotel is facing away from the Garrison, anyway.

Best of all is the large bed, taking up most of the rest of the suite and angled to face the windows. Someone has sprinkled rose petals on the pristine white covers. (Shiro hastily sweeps them off with his floating arm and hides them in a little pile under the bed before Keith has a chance to spot them.)

He needn’t have worried. Keith is, predictably, already out on the balcony. He’s always loved being up high, and out here, they are almost among the stars.

Shiro is a little slower to join him. He pours them each a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket near the bed, and places Keith’s precariously on the balcony railing before hugging him from behind. Resting his chin on his shoulder and admiring the view (but mostly just admiring Keith), he murmurs, “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, eyes fixed on where the giant silver disk of the moon is hovering just over the horizon. His hands are tight on the railing.

Shiro kisses his cheek. “Come inside when you’re ready.”

He leaves him out there, tempting though it is to stay.

The bathroom is ridiculous - all white tile and silver trimmings, its centerpiece a bathtub almost as large as the bed. It has _steps_ leading up to it. Shiro loves it immediately.

He pours them a bath, making the water extra hot like he knows Keith likes, and adds some scented oils to it on a sentimental whim.

He takes his time undressing. Knowing Keith, he’ll be out there a while. Even before the war, Keith valued time alone.

Shiro powers down the forearm of the prosthetic, leaving it aside as he slips into the hot water with a pleased groan. He stretches out, resting his head back on the edge. He only means to close his eyes for a moment, but he must drift off, because the next thing he notices is water rippling up to his neck as Keith slips into the tub as well, completely naked, and settles between his thighs, resting back against his chest.

Shiro’s arm goes around him automatically, hugging him lightly and inhaling the scent of his hair. He kisses his cheek. “Hey.”

Keith smiles, and turns his head to kiss him properly. “This is amazing.”

Shiro kisses back, then rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Is it?”

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Shiro feels his chest twinge, and hugs Keith as tight as he can with one arm in an attempt to soothe it. “Do you like it?”

Keith is quiet for a while, mulling it over. Just when Shiro thinks he isn’t going to answer, he feels Keith’s hand sneak back and slip in between his thighs. Water splashes over the edge of the tub as Shiro’s entire body twitches.

Keith smirks, leaning around to kiss him again. “I love it.”

They never make it to the rest of the items on the list.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter and tumblr~


End file.
